


Do You Hear the People Blog?

by trappednightingale



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blogger AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-09 12:50:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 12,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trappednightingale/pseuds/trappednightingale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Enjolras is a social justice blogger, and Grantaire is the guy who adds stupid gifs to the bottom of his posts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Day of My Life

 

_This is the first day of my life_   
_I’m glad I didn’t die before I met you_   
_But now I don’t care; I could go anywhere with you_   
_And I’d probably be happy_

_-"First Day of My Life", Bright Eyes_

* * *

 

The first time Grantaire meets Enjolras, it is two days before the first classes of their freshman year. Enjolras is already unpacking and making his bed, barely even looking up to glance at his new roommate.

“I study between the hours of six and nine in the evening, ten to midnight are my blogging hours and if you know what’s good for you, you won’t be in the room at the time. I plan on being awake at six thirty every morning, so if you’re a night owl, please try not to keep me up.” He states by way of greeting, to which Grantaire lets out a quiet laugh.

“I take it you’re my roommate, then. Enjolras, wasn’t it?” Grantaire shrugged, tossing his duffel bag onto the unoccupied bed. “Well, I drink between the hours of three in the afternoon to three in the morning and probably won’t be sober or conscious by six thirty, since we’re discussing living habits.”

Enjolras’ back goes stiff, and finally, finally, Grantaire gets to see the face of the poor idiot he’ll be living with for the next year. He regrets taunting him immediately. His roommate has the face of a god, with a clenched jaw betraying levels of rage Grantiare could only begin to fathom from their brief interaction.

"I look forward to a wonderful year with you.” Grantaire extends a hand and Enjolras rolls his eyes before taking it in a reluctant yet firm grasp. Enjolras’ steel gaze sweeps over him before he finally releases his grasp and steps away.

“If you say so.”

Grantaire would be lying if he said any other moment was the moment he fell in love.


	2. Overjoyed

  
_Oh I feel overjoyed_   
_When you listen to my words_   
_I see them sinking in_   
_Oh I see them crawling underneath your skin_   


_-"Overjoyed", Bastille_

* * *

 

“I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly and then all at once?” Enjolras asked in disbelief, not looking up from his laptop screen. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he blogged between ten and midnight; Grantaire simply hadn’t expected him to be so…passionate about it. He would get on the blog site and within ten minutes of logging in, he would have an opinion about something and start going through the phases. Grantaire had gotten it down to a science.

 

First was the “They aren’t serious…this is a joke post, right?” phase. Then was the “Okay, they’re just merely misinformed. No big deal. I’ll just correct them” phase. After that came thirty to forty minutes of research, in which Enjolras made sure he’d considered every possible angle to tackle the problem and ensured that he was as informed about the issue as possible. Once that was done came the furious typing for thirty minutes, in which the backspace key was struck with a harshness that made Grantaire wince and pity the key.

 

Finally, the ‘enter’ key was struck, and one would assume that was the end of the blogging process. However, the one doing said assuming clearly did not know Enjolras. Because the second a comment was made on the post, or someone reblogged it, Enjolras would click the link, check the commentary and respond, often getting more angry as “misinformed idiots” put their “asinine drivel” on his “flawless post”. Usually some of their friends from uni would like or reblog the post, usually adding relatively harmless commentary that neither added to nor detracted from the post itself, and that would be the end of that blogging session.

 

However, that was not the end of the phases. After that came the final phase, Grantaire’s favorite phase. At some point during the previous phase, some blogger by the handle “R” would add something to Enjolras’ post. The first time the strange “R” had appeared, he had added a gif of a cat playing the piano to Enjolras’ post about some sort of massive government controversy. As their first year passed and they got into their sophomore year, reactions from R had begun to vary from an unrelated gif to some kind of quote, and once or twice had been a short work of poetry. But it wasn’t long before R was weighing in on every post Enjolras made, and it infuriated the blonde to no end.

 

“What the hell even is that? And why is he talking about love on a post about how the patriarchy is slowly destroying our culture?” Enjolras growled, already typing furiously.

 

“I believe it’s a quote from that book… you know. The one with the cancer kids.” Grantaire replied, not bothering to remove his gaze from his own laptop screen. He took a swig from the bottle of Jameson’s he was nursing that evening. “What were you even talking about on your post?”

 

“I told you. The patriarchy. We need a culture based on equality or we as a people will never prosper or move forward in any way.”

 

“Maybe this R guy has a crush on you and likes it when you get passionate.”

 

Enjolras shot him a glare. “He hates me. He’s making a mockery of my blog, and is doing this in hopes of ruining me. How will anyone take me seriously if I’m being made a fool of on the internet?”

 

“I highly doubt a lone blogger making fun of you on the internet would detract from your perfect grades, or slight fame because you got published on that one news site that one time.”

 

“It was the Huffington Post. Hardly a head-turner to put on the resume.” Enjolras retorted, jaw still clenched as he resumed typing.

 

“Seriously, you’re over thinking it. Let the dude have his fun. It’s not hurting anyone.”

 

Grantaire heard a muffled retort about desiring harm to come to the blogger and had to bite back a grin. Enjolras really was at his finest when he was angry about something, and nothing made him angrier than interactions with that R character. Finally the blonde slammed his computer shut, turned off his desk lamp and stalked over to his bed, tucking himself in with a barely-contained rage.

 

“I guess he got the last word again?”

 

“I close the blog at midnight. You know my rules.”

 

“At least it wasn’t a cat gif this time.”

 

“It was a gif of a lawnmower flying into a tornado with the text ‘follow your dreams’. I’m honestly not sure how much worse it can get, 'Taire.”

 

“Point.”

 

“I don’t even know why I talk to you. You’re never sober.”

 

“Can you blame me? Would you want to deal with yourself without a ridiculously high blood alcohol content?”

 

“Marius likes me, and he’s never drunk.”

 

“Marius is an idiot with a terrible case of hero worship. Just you wait until he manages to land his first girlfriend. That loyalty will be out the window.”

 

“So you’re saying that loyalty to me is impossible without a time limit or a ridiculous level of alcohol?”

 

“No….okay maybe a little.”

 

“Goodnight, Grantaire.”

 

“Oh back to full names then, are we, Enjolras?”

 

When no response came from Enjolras’ bed, Grantaire grinned and took a final swig from his bottle, then shut his own laptop down, satisfied that he’d had yet another successful night.


	3. Landlocked Blues

  
_And the future hangs over our heads_   
_And it moves with each current event_   
_Until it falls all around like a cold steady rain_   
_Just stay in when it's looking this way_

_-"Landlocked Blues", Bright Eyes_

* * *

Their junior year in college began, and with it came a new set of challenges.

 

“Enjolras, they blocked the blog site. As long as we’re on campus, we can’t access it.” Marius’ voice was audible through the ear piece of Enjolras’ phone, even from where Grantaire was sitting across the room.

 

He felt something clench in his stomach at that, and it wasn't the whiskey sloshing around in his otherwise empty stomach.

 

"We'll find a way around it, Marius. It's like we said at the end of last semester, the school system is corrupt. They know that we know it and they're trying to silence us. But it won't work. Tell les Amis we'll be meeting at the cafe tonight. It's time to start a revolution."

 

Enjolras turned to look at Grantaire, fire in his eyes that not even a R-induced rage could rival.

 

"Will you join us? This is our chance, 'Taire. We can make a difference, rally the students and call for a total upheaval of the system."

 

"I don't actually mind the system, Enjolras."

 

"Of course you don't. Why would you when it is a system you can scrape by in? Not actually learning, not needing to even show up to a class to pass? Where jocks can literally get away with murder so long as they do well in their sport and where fraternities and sororities are treated like infallible gods and goddesses? You see no problems with this system we call our school?"

 

Grantaire's breath caught in his throat as Enjolras spoke and he quickly took a drink from his all-but empty bottle so he could blame the flush forming on his cheeks on the alcohol.

 

"Of course you see no flaws." Enjolras scoffed. "I'm surprised you can see anything at all, as much alcohol as you consume daily."

 

"Some of us function better drunk."

 

"I highly doubt that, 'Taire." Enjolras sighed, having clearly given up on the day’s battle. He glanced at the clock warily and Grantaire barked out a laugh.

 

"My life and sanity may revolve around a bottle, but yours revolves around these dreams of change and rebellion. You can barely get through the day without mentally drafting your next blog post, and you get drunk on people's responses. This desire for justice of yours is going to be the end of you, Enjolras."

 

"The bottle will be your end, so I suppose we'll both die the death of an addict. But at least I will die with fire in my chest."

 

"As will I." Grantaire raised his bottle in a mock salute, then finished off the last of the liquid within before rising to his feet. "Alright, let's get you to the cafe. You've got a revolution to plan and I've got nothing better to do."

 

As he wrapped an arm around Enjolras's shoulder and urged him out the door, he swore he could see the hint of a relieved smile on his roommate's lips, and that was far more intoxicating than even the strongest liquor. _  
_


	4. We Are Young

_Tonight  
We are young  
So let’s set the world on fire  
We can burn brighter than the sun_

_-"We Are Young", Fun._

* * *

_  
_   


_  
_

"Les Amis" was a group of bloggers, different in every way imaginable and yet brought together with a common goal: making the world a better place with the words they wrote. For the most part they were all juniors, save for Eponine and Marius, who had joined the group last year as freshmen.

 

Eponine wasn't really a 'social justice' blogger, fitting more into the media-oriented side of the website, but she was Marius' shadow, so when he joined the unofficial club, she had followed suit. It was strange to see her, then, sitting next to Enjolras at the head of the table, murmuring comments now and then as Enjolras himself typed away at his laptop.

 

"What's up with that?" Grantaire asked, hands gripping the coffee mug on the table in front of him. Already sobriety was starting to sink in, and he had never been fond of the feeling.

 

Marius shrugged, and Courfeyrac shot them both an incredulous look. "She's one of the best hackers in this place. Isn't she your pet, Marius? You should know things like this."

 

Marius turned bright red and began to protest, so Grantaire turned his attention to Eponine and Enjolras. The latter had pulled out his computer and was typing furiously, whereas Eponine's keystrokes were soft and quick but still every bit as deliberate as Enjolras'.

 

"Alright, my friends, the time has come. We've got a plan to get back into the site. Eponine has graciously volunteered her skills to help us tap into the system and right this wrong." Enjolras gestured to his computer. "Even now I'm back on the site and drafting up a manifesto of sorts. They've tried to keep us from keeping the people informed, as we've been doing for so long, but we'll not stand for it. Our voices will be heard!"

 

The table let out wild cheers at that, and Enjolras bent down to type a few more words on his computer, finally pressing enter and publishing the manifesto. Grantaire subtly pulled out his phone and logged on to the blog site, reading through Enjolras' words before typing a few of his own, grateful Eponine had dismantled the firewall blocking the site.

 

A few moments later, Enjolras' computer notification went off and his eyebrows furrowed as he read the latest comment on the manifesto. His lips formed the words "Dance with me" and Grantaire had to bite back laughter.

 

"R strikes again, eh?"

 

"Eponine...is there a chance you want to trace this guy and give him a virus of some kind?" Enjolras ground out, jaw clenching as he began typing a reply.

 

"Not a chance. I like him." Eponine laughed in delight as Enjolras sent the angry reply about there being no time for dancing when there was a revolution to be planning. Grantaire's fingers moved nonchalantly over his phones keypad, and seconds later Enjolras was exclaiming "'A revolution without dancing is a revolution not worth having'? Is this guy serious right now?"

 

"V for Vendetta! I knew I liked him. We should invite him to join our little rebellion. Could be nice to have someone like this on hand." Eponine suggested, grinning when Enjolras merely glared in response.

 

“I doubt he’d be interested. He takes far more pleasure in making a fool of us than in aiding our cause.” Enjolras scowled, shooting Grantaire an exasperated look. “Don’t look so happy, 'Taire. Even in mocking it, at least he is actually taking an interest in our cause.”

 

“If I had no interest in being here, I wouldn’t be.” Grantaire shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee and grimacing when the burn wasn’t what he wanted.

 

Enjolras’ eyes were dark, his expression unreadable as he held Grantaire’s gaze for another moment, then broke it with a sigh.

 

“We’ve managed to get access back, but I give it less than a week before the university notices and retaliates.” Enjolras spoke, drawing the attention of Les Amis who were already logging into the site using their laptops and mobile devices. “It will be blocked again, and we will need to be ready for it. Enjoy these moments of freedom, but do not waste them. We need to raise awareness, to gather more people for our cause. They cannot fight a multitude of people united by one cause.”

 

His eyes were sparkling, and Grantaire could see the reactions of their friends to the speech, impassioned and ready to go to war over such a small thing as a blocked website. Already, Marius was typing Enjolras’ words, posting them to his blog. Enjolras smiled and reblogged it, reveling in the positive reaction he was already getting. That smile faltered, though, as a random blogger added to the post.

 

“This is a waste of time. What’s a mob to a king?” Marius read out, raising an eyebrow. Enjolras’ notification sound echoed from his computer, and the smile came back.

 

[What’s a king to a god, my dear Apollo?]

 

Grantaire slipped his phone in his pocket, knowing the sight of Enjolras’ smiling at the words of R would be the only fire he needed to continue in this pretense.


	5. Drunk

_ I wanna be drunk when I wake up, _

_ On the right side of the wrong bed, _

_ And every excuse I made up, _

_ Tell you the truth I hate, _

_ What didn't kill me, it never made me stronger at all,   
_

_ -"Drunk", Ed Sheeran _

* * *

“Grantaire, put that bottle down!” Enjolras snapped, barely even pausing in his frantic typing.

 

“I’m not bothering you; why should I?” he retorted, taking another pull from the bottle. The lid of Enjolras’ laptop snapped shut and the blonde angrily stalked over to pluck the bottle from his hands.

 

“I’m trying to raise awareness for our cause, to bring down those who would repress our freedom and steal our voice, and you are over here, on your bed, doing nothing but drinking from that damn bottle!”

 

“Drinking and looking at pictures of cats.” Grantaire retorted, snatching the bottle back. “Why is my sobriety so important to you, anyway?”

 

“Because, Grantaire. I’ve known you for years and have never seen you sober for more than a few hours at a time. If alcohol was not clouding your judgement, you would see how righteous this cause is, you would help us instead of—”

 

“Instead of what? Hindering you? Enjolras, I’m not exactly in your way. In fact, I’m doing you a favor by staying out of this whole mess.”

 

“I never said you were actively hindering us, Grantaire. But by doing nothing, you are depriving us of what could potentially be a great asset to our cause.”

 

Grantaire fell silent, refusing to meet Enjolras’ gaze as he handed over the bottle and gave a short nod. “Right. An asset. Well who am I to deny Apollo another weapon in this war of his?”

 

“Don’t call me that.”

 

“Why? Is R the only one who can see the truth of the name? That you are the sun around which we orbit in this revolution of yours? It must be lonely, to have so many satellites and not a single one bright enough to call friend.”

 

Enjolras narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but shook his head and stepped away, still clutching the bottle. “Sober up, then start going through our more recent posts. I’ll help you set up a blog tomorrow.”

 

“I have no interest in joining your merry band of bloggers. I’m an artist, not a revolutionary.”

 

“You are also a cynic, and your input will be greatly valued.” His lips twitched in a slight smile. “Perhaps it will speak to your muse, inspire you to paint again.”

 

Grantaire bit back a comment about how Enjolras was his muse, not his damn cause, and he let out a slight sigh. “We shall see, Apollo.”

__


	6. Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now

_I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour  
But heaven knows I'm miserable now_

_-"Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now", the Smiths_

* * *

_  
_

Sobriety did not sit well with Grantaire. It had been three days, three damn miserable days without even a drop of alcohol, and he had begun to curse himself for agreeing to it in the first place. Much to Enjolras’ obvious disappointment, Grantaire stopped showing up at their meetings at the Café Musain, choosing instead to lock himself in their room with a sketchbook and a bottle of water.

By the time Enjolras returned from the meetings, Grantaire would either be still drawing or curled up on his side, sketch pad and several discarded pages scattered on the floor, but never asleep. Alcohol had been his anchor, the one thing that could chase away the burden of consciousness.

"Another bad day then?" Enjolras asked quietly as he entered the room, hanging his jacket on his desk chair and crossing the room to where Grantaire was still sketching, surrounded by pages heavy with charcoal. His own hands were covered in it and he barely gave Enjolras a second glance as he continued drawing.

"I want to forget life." He murmured, watching the charcoal swirls on the page slowly take shape into the familiar face of his roommate before ripping the page off the pad and crumbling it. "Life is an ugly invention of someone I don't know. It's short and good for nothing. I'm angry and exhausted and bored and tormented. God can burn in hell for all I care."

"'Taire, this is just the withdrawal talking. Give it some time--"

"Withdrawal? No, Apollo, this is the world as I see it without the pleasant haze of alcohol to make it all bearable. You said it yourself, you've never seen me sober for more than a day or so at a time, and this is why. Are you happy? Your cause means nothing to me. If anything, sobriety has made me see how hopeless it all is. You're wasting your time, both with this rebellion and with me."

"Is this how you truly feel?" Enjolras asked flatly, bending down to pick up the discarded drawing. His expression was unreadable as his eyes moved over the page. Finally, he folded it up and put it in his pocket, turning away with a sigh. "I think I liked you better drunk."

"Join the freaking club." Grantaire muttered, taking a vindictive swig from his water bottle. Enjolras didn't say anything else, merely turned on his heel and left the room.

The next morning, there was a bottle of rum on his desk, the closest thing to an apology he'd ever gotten from his roommate. But it wasn't the unsaid apology that caused a wave of nausea in Grantaire. No, it was the knowledge that he was the only cause Enjolras had ever given up on.

As if to spite him, he showed up to the cafe Musain that night, opting for tea instead of coffee and taking his usual seat in the corner. Enjolras met his gaze with a brief nod and the slightest hint of a smile on his lips.


	7. Charlie Brown

_Light a fire, a flame in my heart.  
We'll run wild,  
We'll be glowing in the dark._

_-"Charlie Brown", Coldplay_

* * *

Two weeks later, the university had upgraded their wireless security, and Les Amis were at a loss for how to proceed. Grantaire had managed to remain sober for that entire time, and on the morning of his fifteenth day sober, he’d found a brand new sketchpad and a set of watercolor pencils on his desk. He brought them along to the meeting of Les Amis that night, and where before he would have been scowling into his coffee cup, that night he was sketching with a slight grin. Eponine entered the café and shot Grantaire a questioning look, then shrugged him off and hurried to where Enjolras was seated at the head of the table.

 

“I figured out how we’re going to get the site back.” She declared, dropping down into the seat next to Enjolras and pulling out her laptop.

 

“But last night you said they’d managed to block it even past your hacking abilities, Ponine.” Marius said, confused. Grantaire paused in his sketching to glance up at Enjolras, who was practically beaming.

 

“Well, don’t keep us waiting. Tell us what you’ve found out.”

 

“The blocking program is all in the student wi-fi, right?" At Enjolras' nod, she continued. "Yeah, well guess who's wi-fi doesn't have said blocking programs on it?"

 

"The faculty wi-fi... But how can you be sure?" Marius asked. Eponine's cheeks reddened slightly.

 

"I have my ways, Marius." She winked. "No, but really. I went home yesterday to ask my brother what he thought about it, and he showed me a blog run by none other than Dean Madeleine. I mean, his online handle is something different, Jean something, but still."

 

"The Dean runs a blog?" Courfeyrac asked. "No way... They blocked the site for 'adult material' and 'terrorism' and our own Dean has a blog on it?"

 

"Hypocrisy at its finest." Enjolras scowled.

 

"Actually...I don't think he even knows about the ban. I mean. All that stuff is handled by campus security..."

 

"Javert. He's been licking the boots of the head of the board for ages. So not hypocrisy at its finest, but corruption."

 

"What makes you think corruption, Enjolras?" Combferre asked quietly.

 

"Think. What was our last post before the first ban of the site?"

 

"We were talking about how the board was forcing Doctor LeMarque to retire--"

 

"In order to cut spending so they could all get a raise." Courfeyrac cut in, eyes sparkling in anger.

 

"And before the second ban?" Enjolras prompted.

 

"How they were raising tuition and lowering the grade of food they order in the Caf." Marius frowned. "But we never had any physical proof of all that...it was just stuff we'd heard. Practically baseless conjecture."

 

"Yes, but I'll bet we were on to something. And if we can get access to the faculty wi-fi, we'll have access to budget information, salaries, everything. Think of what we could accomplish with this. We could overthrow the tyranny of Louis-Phillipe and his corrupted school board. Once we get solid information, actual proof, we can get people's attention, rally the other students to our cause." Enjolras' voice was calm, but Grantaire could see the fire in his eyes, the unadulterated passion that had been awoken.

 

"And how are you planning on getting said access?" Marius asked.

 

"The security on their wi-fi is too advanced for me." Eponine shook her head.

 

"We'll have to get in the old-fashioned way, then. We'll get someone's codes. I can't imagine that Professor LeMarque is thrilled that they're forcing him out. I'll sway him to our cause. His final day is in three weeks, at the end of the semester. We'll bide our time, and use his access codes once he's gone."

 

"Freedom and justice are worth going without a blog for a few weeks." Combferre sighed. "Although I'd be lying if I said I was happy about it."

 

"You do know we could just go to like. Starbucks and use their wifi until we get this all sorted out, right?" Eponine cocked her head at them. "Plus a lot of our phones have the ability to get online without wifi--"

 

"No. We need to leave our blogs stagnant until we can get on them here. It will tell our followers that we've suffered, will only aid our cries of injustice." Enjolras interrupted, and slowly the rest of Les Amis nodded in agreement.

 

"We'll start talking to people around campus, too. Maybe the fandom side of the site will join our crusade." Combferre suggested and Eponine nodded in agreement.

 

"I'm not a social justice blogger like you guys and you've got me. Other fandom blogs will probably signal boost some of your posts, find more people who wanna stand with us."

 

"Maybe the art blogs will get involved too." Marius brightened, and the rest of Les Amis looked between themselves in confusion. "Um... you know. Those blogs with the pictures and stuff? Like 'castle on a cloud'?"

 

"Seriously? You follow that piece of hipster garbage?" Eponine wrinkled her nose. "I'm still made she's internet famous. She's such a little bougie brat."

 

"You know about her?" Marius brightened considerably.

 

"Know about her? Marius, I know the girl. IRL. Really, she's not worth your time."

 

"I don't think so at all. She and I...we've been talking. Sort of. She seems really nice! If you know her...do you think you could introduce us?" He shot her his best pleading look and Grantaire's heart broke a little for the poor girl as she gave him a nod.

 

"Yeah, I'll shoot her a text. See if she's free this weekend."

 

Grantaire shot her a sympathetic look; he was no stranger to unrequited love, but he could imagine that to be passed over for another female instead of for dedication to a cause must hurt much worse. Spying the TARDIS design on her cell phone case, he flipped to a new page and began a new sketch.


	8. Fix You

_Lights will guide you home,_

_And ignite your bones_

_And I will try_

_To fix you_

_-"Fix You", Coldplay_

* * *

 

Three weeks found them all done with finals and many of them parting ways to go home for the winter holidays. The night after their last day of exams, however, found Enjolras in a heated phone argument outside their dorm room while Grantaire was setting up a few canvases around their room.

 

“On the outs with your parents again, hm?” Grantaire asked with a slight grin as Enjolras stormed into the room and tossed his phone onto his bed.

 

“Not that you can talk. Have you even spoken with your parents since they dropped you off freshman year?”

 

“Nope! I like it better that way, frankly.” He replied, moving to sit on top of Enjolras’ desk while the blonde booted up his computer. “Are you seriously about to try to blog about an argument with your parents? You’re still blocked from the site, remember?”

 

“Lamarque gave me his access codes yesterday—”

 

“What happened to suffering for your cause, hm?” Grantaire reached over to close the lid of the laptop before Enjolras could plug in the information.

 

“This is how I cope, Grantaire. You drink, I—”

 

“No, see, you don’t get to make that argument anymore. I gave up my addiction, over a month sober now, remember? You can go without your blog for a few weeks.”

 

Enjolras looked away. “You’re right.” He replied quietly. “I often forget how dependent I’ve become on this website.”

 

“C’mon.” Grantaire reached over and tugged on his arm. “You need to talk about…whatever all that was, and I know you need to talk with your fingers, so. Let’s try something.”

 

Enjolras watched him warily as Grantaire crossed the room to reach under his bed and pull out a large cardboard box, tugging it over to where he’d set up the canvases.

 

“What are you—”

 

Grantaire shot him a grin as he began pulling out various bottles of cheap acrylic paints, lining them up on his desk as he replied.“When I can’t cope with life and its bullshit, I paint. It doesn’t always have to make sense, and as you see on my worse nights, it’s not always pretty. But it really does help. It gives you an outlet, you know?”

 

“I’m not an artist, Grantaire.”

 

“Yeah, and I’m not a revolutionary, but I still go to your meetings, don’t I?” He retorted. “Try it. What’s the worst that could happen?”

 

“I could get paint all over the room.”

 

“Yeah, well, you’re all about fighting the power and what better way to say screw you than by having paint all over the walls and floor, hm?”

 

Enjolras actually chuckled a little at that, and Grantaire’s grin broadened. “See? It’s helping already. So. Go crazy.”

 

“Alright…where’s a paintbrush?”

 

“What’d I just say about talking with your fingers?” he rolled his eyes and picked up the bottle of yellow paint, unscrewing the top and dipping his fingers in before smearing them across one of the canvases.

 

Enjolras didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he still took a step forward and picked up the red paint, hesitantly dipping his index finger into the bottle then drawing a tiny ‘x’ in the corner of the canvas next to Grantaire’s.

 

“That wasn’t too bad, was it?” Grantaire nudged him gently.

 

“I suppose not…” Enjolras frowned, picking up the black paint next and dipping his middle finger in it so he could continue drawing small shapes on the canvas. Encouraged by how engrossed he seemed to be, Grantaire shifted his attention to his own canvas. There was no particular pattern or intention he had with the colors he was smearing over each other; sometimes it was just nice to see blues and yellows and whites blending together to make a variety of colors and shapes. Enjolras, on the other hand, seemed incredibly focused on his canvas, with a stony resolve that Grantaire only ever saw when the blonde was writing essays.

 

“So what was the call about?” Grantaire asked, not looking away from his own canvas. Enjolras gave him a strange look, then sighed, making a large red smear over the canvas.

 

“Mother found my blog.”

 

Grantaire paused in his own painting to shoot Enjolras a worried look. “I’m guessing she wasn’t thrilled about the content?”

 

Enjolras snorted at that. “I’d forgotten you don’t actually read what I post.”

 

Grantaire had to bite back a retort, choosing to return to his canvas. This time, he smeared a dark blue across the bottom, then a lighter blue above that, pushing his fingers through each streak to blend them together.

 

“So how’d she take it?”

 

“Not well. She and father want me to return home, to go to a more conservative school near them, learn to keep my head down and my nose out of ‘things that don’t concern me’.” Enjolras’ scowl deepened as he continued smearing the red paint across the canvas, over the black shapes, not seeming to care how the bright red he loved so much was tainted by the black paint. Grantaire noted that a small black symbol in the bottom corner remained untouched. He vaguely remembered something about isolated images implying an artist’s inner feelings of loneliness from one of his many art classes and he hesitantly brought his clean hand up to rest on Enjolras’ shoulder.

 

“The student loans are all in your name still, right? So it’s not like they can yank you out of school.”

 

“No, but… They’ve told me I’m not to return home for the break and that we’d discuss my life choices again next semester before they decide whether I can come home for the summer.”

 

The hand on Enjolras’ shoulder tightened. “Damn, Enj, that’s—”

 

“It won’t be a problem. Our RA has been letting you stay on campus over breaks ever since freshman year. I’m certain he’ll understand my situation and—”

 

“I’m not talking about the housing situation, Enj. I’m talking about the fact that your parents pretty much kicked you out because you didn’t want to be a lemming.”

 

“Really, it’s…fine.” Enjolras sighed, bringing a hand up to grip Grantaire’s wrist lightly. Black and red paint still on Enjolras’ fingers rubbed off onto Grantaire’s skin, and he mentally made a note to sketch this scene later, the symbolism of being marked with Enjolras’ colors not lost on him.

 

“It’s not fine, Enj, you lost your home—”

 

“I didn’t, though. That place…hasn’t been my home in a while. My home…it’s here.” His fingers tightened on Grantaire’s wrist for a brief moment before he let go, taking a step away and turning away from his canvas. “With you—and with the others, as well.”

 

Grantaire’s heart leapt in his chest at that, and he offered his roommate a brief smile. “Les Amis…it’s like a family. Definitely the closest thing to a real family I’ve ever had.”

 

Enjolras looked at him for a moment, almost as though he was silently assessing him before offering a reply.

 

“Me too.” He cleared his throat and looked away. “Thank you for…this. It helped, in its own way. I think I’m going to go get some take out for dinner. Our finals are over; we should be celebrating. Not…wallowing in this.”

 

“Yeah, take-out sounds great. My turn to treat, right?”

 

Enjolras quickly waved him off. “No, I’ve got it this time. You can buy next time.”

 

Grantaire waited for Enjolras to leave the room before pressing a finger to the red paint on his arm and blending it with the yellow and white smears at the top of the page, creating a red and white shape that acted as the sun, the focal point of the messy little finger painting he knew he would likely end up keeping for the rest of his days. He knew it was silly, to be so emotionally attached to something he didn’t put much effort into, but at the same time, the two paintings were something he and Enjolras had created together. He rarely, if ever, painted around Enjolras, and Enjolras rarely, if ever, talked about things that troubled him. The paintings weren’t great art by any stretch of the imagination, but they represented something important to Grantaire: the first night he ever felt as though Enjolras valued him as more than just a potential asset to the cause.


	9. Lover of the Light

_There'll be no comfort in the shade  
Of the shadows thrown  
But I'd be yours if you'd be mine_

_-"Lover of the Light", Mumford and Sons_

* * *

The first meeting after winter break consisted primarily of Enjolras passing out access codes he had created after getting into the faculty's system and ranting about things he'd discovered in his time off.

 

"Leave it to Apollo to not take the term 'break' seriously." Grantaire muttered, taking the piece of paper that had been offered to him.

 

Joly shot him a questioning look. "Did you finally--"

 

"God, no." Grantaire cut him off quickly, plugging the information on the slip of paper into his phone. "Apollo is merely convinced that any day now, I'll wake up and suddenly become passionate about all this. He even has a blog set up for me, with one of those cheesy pen names you guys have. I think I'm 'the Artist'."

 

Joly nodded as he signed his own moniker, 'the Healer', to the top of his slip of paper. "I think you should be flattered. If he didn't think you'd be an asset, 'the Revolutionary' wouldn't have bothered. It means he trusts you." He shot Grantaire a meaningful look, which he opted to ignore.

 

"Good to have you back, my friend."

 

"We're talking about this, Grantaire."

 

"...later." He conceded, taking a long drink from his coffee. Enjolras' gaze met his own, and he quickly looked away, focusing his attention on his phone.

 

*          *          *

 

  
"You seem different." Joly said, taking a seat in Grantaire's desk chair. The meeting hadn't lasted much longer, and Enjolras and Combferre were still at the Musain, discussing the next phase of the rebellion.

 

"So do you. The nose job did you some good."

 

"It wasn't a nose job, it was a septoplasty, and you need to stop deflecting."

 

"I'm not deflecting! My dearest friend was gone for an entire semester, the subject of conversation should be his health and various surgical procedures he went through!"

 

"My god. Grantaire... Are you...sober?"

 

"Don't remind me." Grantaire groaned, flopping back onto his bed. "It's been what? Eight weeks? And Apollo kept texting me over break, making sure I didn't slip up. I hate sobriety and I don't like thinking about it."

 

"Sobriety talk is off-limits. Got it." Joly nodded. "Instead, lets discuss how R has actually begun to debate with our fearless leader in the past few weeks?"

 

"The fact that you followed their post war concerns me."

 

"We've all been following it. I'm the only one who seems to know why R has only just started expressing his opinions."

 

"R has always had opinions. He's just seemed to always prefer expressing them through gifs and vaguely relevant quotes." Grantaire retorted, refusing to meet his gaze.

 

"Perhaps because, until recently, he's been too drunk to type coherently?" Joly raised an eyebrow.

 

"We don't know his life."

 

"Cut the crap, Grantaire. I've known you were R since that first post you jumped on three years ago."

 

"How...did you know?"

 

"First day of the biology lab we shared. I made the comment that your name in French was essentially 'capital R'."

 

"I have no recollection of this."

 

"Not anymore, no." Joly tilted his head towards him in acknowledgement. "Alcohol can have that affect on the brain. But it must have made an impact at the time because not even two days later, Enjolras was complaining about some guy named 'R' hijacking his posts and adding pictures of cats to them."

 

"It's not like it was a lot of cats. Just Tardar Sauce because she's grumpy, like Enjolras!" Grantaire protested, and Joly gave him a grin.

 

"And thus a beautiful rivalry was born."

 

"I wouldn't call it a rivalry--"

 

"It wasn't before, but it certainly is now. Enjolras won't shut up about how annoyingly clever R is. He seems almost smitten with the blogger."

 

"You're starting to sound like Jehan. Next thing you know, you'll be spouting nonsense about star-crossed lovers."

 

"Or men who loved so fiercely that they abandoned the one thing that had been keeping them sane for almost a decade now." Joly retorted.

 

Grantaire fell silent at that, and he could see sympathy cross the features of his friend.

 

"Why don't you just...tell him? That you're R, that you're in love with him...anything?"

 

"He'd never believe me." he replied quietly. "Nor would he accept me. And it's like you said...the bottle is all that's kept me sane for the past few years. But...he grounds me. Gives me something to hold on to, to believe in. If he sent me away...I'm not sure what I'd do. No, this is better, safer."

 

"If you say so." Joly sighed, running a hand through his hair, then hastily pulling a small bottle of hand sanitizer from his pocket and rubbing it between his palms.

 

"So, how many surgeries was it you had over the past few months?"

 

"Three. Tonsillectomy, appendictomy, and a powered septoplasty with turbinoplasty." Joly replied. "Haven't you been reading my blog?"

 

"You know I've only got eyes for Enjolras' blog.”

 

"Ah, yes, well. 'A World About to Dawn' is a fascinating blog. Can't say I blame you in the slightest." Joly teased.

 

"You guys are so cheesy. Worst group of online social activists ever."

 

"When one of you goes by the name 'the Poet', it's hard to avoid cheesiness."

 

"Don't bring poor Jehan into this! He had nothing to do with most of the cheesiness. It's just Enj trying to be creative, bless him for trying."

 

"Trying being the operative word there." Joly laughed, expression softening as he looked over at Grantaire. "Seriously, though. Are you...alright? With the whole sobriety thing?"

 

"Quitting cold turkey was a horrible life decision." Grantaire admitted with a shrug. "But, I'm hanging in there."

 

"Well if you're ever...not okay? You know you can come to me, right? I know I'm just a student still, but I've done a lot of research on addiction recovery, so I can help you through it."

 

"Thanks, Joly. Really. I'll keep you in mind. But...I really do think I'm alright. Some days are harder than others, and it helps that it was never really a matter of addiction for me. It was just like. Sunglasses. The world was easier to deal with under the haze of intoxication. But I'm kinda figuring out that it's not as horrible as I thought it was."

 

"Amazing how beautiful the world is when you actually want to see the beauty in it."

 

"Says the man who refuses to see the beauty in anything that isn't one hundred percent sanitized."

 

"I got mono from a drinking fountain and had to get not one but three surgeries because of it. Can you blame me?"

 

"Point."

 


	10. Radioactive

_I raise my flags, don my clothes  
It's a revolution, I suppose_

_-"Radioactive", Imagine Dragons_

* * *

Marius wasn’t at the next meeting, meaning neither was Eponine. Enjolras didn’t seem too bothered by it, however, and carried on as though nothing was off.

 

“…which is why we need to make this information public. The student body—no, the world—has the right to know what’s going on behind the closed doors at our beloved university.”

 

“This is madness, Enj.” Combferre stated gently, placing a hand on Enjolras’ arm.

 

“’Ferre’s right.” Jehan nodded, biting his lip as he somewhat reluctantly spoke up. “We just wanted to access our blogs again, you know? We’ve got our site back, and right now we can stay unnoticed by the administration…”

 

“But once they figure out you’ve been snooping around, or god forbid, if you actually publish some of the information you’ve uncovered… they’ll expel us for sure.” Combferre added. “Not to mention the possibility that we could actually get arrested. What you’re talking about doing…it’s illegal, Enj. We’re not supposed to have that information, and the way we’re getting it isn’t exactly legal.”

 

“They’re pocketing our tuition money, Combferre. They raised it last year to, quote, improve the quality of the cafeteria food, unquote. And what did they do with that extra income? Members of the board got a raise while they actually started ordering a lower grade of food for us. We’re suffering, practically starving because of the low quality food they serve us, and they’re driving new cars. And did the rest of the faculty get a raise? No, they actually fired what few professors and staff members that were on our side. I can’t just sit idly by while this goes on.”

 

“We’re just students, Enjolras.” Courfeyrac said quietly. “Blogging about rumors and stories of injustice is good and well, but… the second we start digging into stuff like this, we cease being harmless bloggers and slowly slip into the realm of criminals. I just wanna get through this next year and a half, you know?”

 

“We all do.” Jehan nodded.

 

“If we don’t speak out, who will? Can you honestly tell me you would all sit idly by while this injustice continues?” Enjolras’ gaze traveled around the table, holding Grantaire’s gaze for only a beat longer than the others. Grantaire’s mouth remained firmly shut, and he shifted his eyes back down to his sketchpad. Finally, Enjolras sighed and sat down, eyes full of sorrow for a brief moment before his expression shifted to one of determination.

 

“I will be releasing the documents tonight. You can choose to raise your voice and repost it on your own blogs, or to remain silent. It is up to you, and your choice will not affect my opinion of you.” Enjolras began shuffling through his papers, uncapping a red pen and making notes on points he wanted to emphasize. One by one, the other Amis began to file out, not saying a word as they left. Joly shot Grantaire a meaningful glance before he too departed, leaving only Grantaire and Enjolras in the back room of the café.

  
“They cut you off when you were just spewing baseless conjecture last time…What do you think will happen once they find out you have evidence?” Grantaire asked quietly, pausing from filling in his sketch so he could watch Enjolras. The blonde’s shoulders slumped and he wearily looked up from his paper work.

 

“You think I don’t know what they’ll do to me? I’ll honestly be lucky if all they do is take away the site again. But… it has to be done. If we don’t raise our voices, nothing will change.”

 

“How can you raise your voice if you’re out on the street after they kick you out?”

 

“Grantaire…if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you actually cared.” Enjolras’ lips quirked up into a slight smile, but Grantaire waved him off.

 

“No, not at all. It’s just going to be a pain in the ass if they assign me another roommate next year.”

 

Enjolras’ smile faltered at that, and he let out another sigh. “Yes, I suppose it’s foolish to think you’ll actually take part in any of this.”

 

“I’ve been sober long enough for you to know it wasn’t the alcohol keeping me from taking up your flag, Enjolras.”

 

“I know.” This time, the smile he gave Grantaire was sad, and the blonde returned his attention to the papers on the table in front of him. Grantaire watched him for a few moments, torn with the desire to speak up and take his side and the overwhelming fear that Enjolras would reject him altogether. So he too fell silent and resumed his earlier activity of using his new watercolors to fill in his sketch, wishing for a familiar burn to chase away the feeling of unease.


	11. The Lightning Strike

_What if this storm ends?  
And leaves us nothing  
Except a memory  
A distant echo_

_-"The Lightning Strike", Snow Patrol_

* * *

_  
_   


The week went by, and Grantaire wasn't surprised to see that Enjolras' post had gone viral. People around campus were talking about the bloggers responsible for leaking the highly confidential information and it seemed as though the entire campus was waiting with bated breath for their next move.

 

"Marius. So glad you could join us." Enjolras remarked dryly as the boy took his seat.

 

"Sorry, I've been so caught up with Cosette, I totally forgot about last week’s meeting." Marius gave an awkward smile. Eponine looked up from her mobile phone and shot Marius a look, something Grantaire could easily recognize as unadulterated longing. The other members of the group resumed the lively discussion of what their next move would be.

 

Eponine's phone beeped and her eyes widened in disbelief, a broad grin covering her face.

 

"Grantaire, look." She tugged on his shirtsleeve and gestured to her phone. "Someone just anonymously submitted this to my blog."

 

Grantaire raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion. "It's a brunette stepping out of a box."

 

"Not just any box, that's the TARDIS. And that's clearly me. See, she even has my hat!"

 

"You've got a fan, then." Grantaire smiled, happy to see the bright smile on the girls face instead of the morose scowl she'd been wearing since Marius and Cosette got together.

 

"Looks that way." She laughed, pressing the 'publish' button on the blog app. "Man I can't wait for my followers to see this. Maybe the artist will fess up."

 

"Maybe." Grantaire replied absently, noticing that Enjolras had gone uncharacteristically still. "Enj? What's wrong?"

 

"I just got a cease and desist email from the administration." His voice was almost hoarse. "Next time will be a fine."

 

"And the time after that, expulsion." Combferre added, reading over his shoulder.

 

Enjolras didn't even hesitate before posting the email to his blog. "Looks like we're on to something."

 

The other members of the group began reblogging it, adding their thoughts and opinions under the original text. Marius let out a quiet snort when he saw the latest addition.

 

"Watch out, we've got a badass over here?" Enjolras read out, a slight frown on his face. "And what does Neil deGrasse Tyson have to do with any of this?"

 

"How do you know who--" Combeferre raised an eyebrow then shook his head. "Right. Astrophysicist. I keep forgetting he's more than just an overused meme. I'm guessing that was R's addition?"

 

Enjolras gave a brief nod. "It's strange. He usually has more to say."

 

"Missing the banter, are we?" Courfeyrac teased.

 

"Of course not. Although...his admittedly pessimistic input was...somewhat refreshing. His opposition often served to strengthen my resolve in my own beliefs and opinions."

 

Joly shot Grantaire an almost smug grin, and the artist returned to sketching idly, knowing he likely had a stupid grin on his face.


	12. I Will Follow You Into the Dark

_If there's no one beside you  
When your soul embarks  
Then I'll follow you into the dark_

_-"I Will Follow You Into the Dark", Death Cab for Cutie_

* * *

__  


By the time another two weeks had passed, each of the group members had received their first warning, and several had earned the second strike and accompanying fine. Grantaire kept his own warnings secret, not even telling Joly when they showed up in his school account’s inbox.

 

“…and if a third violation occurs, campus security will forcibly escort you from the premises, and the violator will be banned from the university for an indefinite amount of time.” Jehan read the final line of his second warning with a shaky voice and Courfeyrac placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Jehan shot him a grateful look and opened his mouth to reply, but Enjolras cleared his throat and drew his attention away.

 

“As of today, many of you have received your second warnings; Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Eponine, Joly, and Jehan just now as well as myself. That leaves the first warnings at Marius, Bahorel, Feuilly, and Bossuet, correct?”

  
“Nope, just got my second as well!” Bossuet laughed, cheerful as ever. “Just my luck, eh? You were about to give your ‘it’s okay to jump ship’ speech, too, weren’t you?”

 

Enjolras nodded with a wry smile, then slowly rose to his feet.

 

“My friends, if we continue on, there are no doubts in my mind that we will be expelled. I cannot promise you that your expulsion will result in the overturning of the corrupt board that runs this university, nor can I guarantee that this expulsion will not prevent you from pursuing education elsewhere. Should any of you wish to take a step back, I would not blame you in the slightest.”

 

He looked each of them in the eye as he spoke, even though Marius refused to meet his gaze. Enjolras paused when he got to Grantaire. The look in his eyes was one of disappointment, and it broke Grantaire’s heart to see that look directed at him. He was a mere second away from opening his mouth and confessing his online identity, but Enjolras looked away and Grantaire chose to remain silent.

 

“I will say this, though. We’ve already made a difference simply by raising awareness. You can’t go anywhere on this campus without hearing someone talking about our blogs and the points we’ve brought up on them. We’ve made the administration realize that their secrets will come to light, no matter how deeply buried they may be, and we’ve gotten the students to start paying attention to what’s going on behind closed doors. I have no intention of abandoning the cause, even after they remove me from campus. I believe change is well within our grasp, and I will not go down without a fight.”

 

The room was silent as everyone contemplated his words. It was Courfeyrac who spoke first.

 

“Let’s face it, there’s no way I can pay this fine. If they expel me, I won’t have to worry about it.” He grinned, rising to his feet. “If you’re gonna go down fighting, I will too. Strength in numbers, right?”

 

Jehan rose to his feet next. “I don’t really need an English degree to do freelance poetry. Besides, the major program here spends way too much time on Shakespeare and not enough on Yeats or Cummings.”

 

“Do you even have to ask? Of course I’ll stand by you on this.” Combeferre stood and clapped Enjolras on the shoulder. One by one, the rest of Les Amis rose to their feet, save for Eponine, who was rummaging through her bookbag, and Joly and Grantaire.

 

Joly shrugged as he stood. “This place gave me mono, I don’t think a place so riddled with disease is qualified to even have a pre-med program. I’ll make sure to make that the subject of my final blog post before they expel me. Go down fighting, right?” He looked over at Grantaire, giving him a meaningful look as Eponine pulled a scrap of red fabric out of her backpack.

 

“Alright guys. You said go down with a fight, right?” She enthusiastically began tearing off strips of the fabric and passing them around. “What’s a revolution without a unifying factor, right? We’ve got to show them that we’re a united front, not just a bunch of disconnected bloggers.”

 

“Why are you even carrying around that red fabric?” Jehan asked as he accepted a piece of fabric, tying it around his arm.

 

Eponine blushed and looked away. “I was working on my Madame Red costume for that convention next month. But something tells me I’ll be too caught up in the real world to go.”

 

Enjolras took two scraps of the red fabric and tied one scrap around his arm before crossing the room to stand in front of Grantaire. “And you? Will you stand with us?” He asked quietly, extending his hand to the other male. Grantaire held his gaze for a moment, seeing the wary hope in the other’s eyes. Everyone was watching them, no one wanting to speak to break the moment. Finally, Grantaire rose to his feet and shook his head, pushing past Enjolras and moving to the door.

 

“I need a drink.” He muttered, trying to ignore the look of heartbreak on Enjolras’ face as he left the café.

 

Grantaire could hear Joly murmuring something about being overwhelmed, but his ears were almost ringing and his vision was beginning to blur. He wandered around campus for a little while, noting places that had somehow managed to ingrain themselves into his mind: the bench outside the library where he would wait for Enjolras between classes, the picnic table where they had taken to eating during the warmer months, the balcony over the student union from which they’d hung a tricolor in their sophomore year as a prank, the grassy hill overlooking the duck pond where Grantaire had first drawn Enjolras, for a class project that time. Even though it had been a trick of fate that had put them together, they had built a life together, of sorts. Grantaire couldn’t imagine walking around campus, knowing Enjolras would no longer be crouched over a table in the library, or sitting on a familiar bench, scowling at Grantaire for whatever snarky comment he’d made that day.

 

Not that Grantaire had ever had any intention of abandoning Enjolras to take the punishment alone.

 

No, as he walked back to their dorm room, he realized that their life together, every moment they’d shared, every fight they’d gotten to both online and in real life…

 

It had all been leading to this.


	13. I'm Your Moon

  
_Let them think what they like, we're fine  
I will always be right here next to you  
I'm your moon  
You're my moon  
We go round and round  
_   
_-"I'm Your Moon", Jonathan Coulton_   


* * *

Enjolras’ head is bowed over his laptop as Grantaire crosses the room. The brunette makes note of the three warnings, all neatly aligned on Enjolras’ desk. He feels his own phone buzz in his pocket, and he knows that he’s just received his third warning as well.

 

Grantaire can’t help but smile at that; Campus security will be there any minute for him, and the man is still blogging.

 

“I’m not going down without a fight.” Is all he says as Grantaire places a hand on his shoulder.

 

“You could have given this all up, you know. When they blocked the site, you could have just. Changed sites or something.”

 

“No. I had followers, 'Taire. And this censorship thing? It’s not right. All it’s doing is stifling our rights to express ourselves and to speak out against injustice!” And there it is, the barely-controlled rage that Grantaire had missed so much.

 

“And your fan? Has he anything to say in regards to your swan song post?”

 

“Nothing.” Enjolras’ scowl deepens. “The man gave me hell for three years and can’t even be damned to say goodbye.” He turns to Grantaire, giving him a questioning look. “Why did you come back? This isn’t your cause. You had nothing to do with…any of this. You just sat over there, in your corner, getting drunk off your ass and laughing at pictures of cats, while the rest of us spoke out against oppression. You don’t believe in our cause. You don’t believe in anything.”

 

Grantaire shrugs, drops his grip on Enjolras and pulls out his phone and types absently on the keyboard. “I believe in you.”

 

The notification sound on Enjolras’ laptop goes off, and he looks away to check it, fingers stilling over the keyboard as he sees the comment at the bottom of his post.

 

“The toad always has his eyes fixed on heaven. Why? In order to watch the bird in its flight..?” he reads, voice almost hoarse as the realization dawns on him. “'Taire…you’re…”

 

“It is a pity that I am ignorant, for I would quote you a crowd of things, but I don’t know anything.” He quips with a half-grin, eyes widening as he realizes what he’s doing. No, it had never been a question of what he would give for Enjolras. He would have given anything for Enjolras. But this…to let him know that he had been there every step of the way, adding sarcastic commentary, seemingly irrelevant pictures and gifs, all while silently supporting their cause, not for the sake of freedom, but for the sake of Enjolras.  
 

"That was the first thing R ever added to one of my posts, three years ago..." Enjolras murmurs as Grantaire continues to type. The notification sound goes off again, and Enjolras looks between his laptop and Grantaire, torn for a moment before shutting the computer down and rising to his feet, moving to stand in front of Grantaire.

 

“And what does R have to say now?”

 

“He would seek favor with his Apollo.” Grantaire shrugs, breath catching in his throat as Enjolras takes a step closer. “He asks but a single question.”

 

“And what question would that be?”

 

“Do you permit it?”

 

Grantaire extends a hand, silently begging Enjolras to take it, to accept him, even as everything in him knows the blonde will reject him and send him away. Because he isn’t simply asking Enjolras to accept his affection, or his love. He is asking permission to be allowed to take part in this cause, to put his future on the line for his Apollo and his cause, even though Grantaire had never believed in it himself. His eyes are wide, almost frantic, he knows, even though he’d long since abandoned the bottle and the pain of withdrawal had ceased weeks ago.

 

Finally, Enjolras reaches out and takes his hand, giving a slight nod. That’s all the encouragement Grantaire needs before he’s releasing his hand and grabbing Enjolras’ face, placing a desperate kiss against his lips. Enjolras’ hands move up to grip his wrists, not pushing him away but pulling him closer, keeping him near as Enjolras presses up into the kiss.

 

Grantaire pulls away first, pressing a gentle kiss to Enjolras’ lips shortly after breaking the initial kiss, then another. He’s in the middle of a fourth kiss when a harsh pounding sounds at the door, and he and Enjolras freeze, eyes snapping open to look at the other as they take a step back. Enjolras is the one who reaches over, clasping Grantaire’s hand firmly in his own before letting out a short “Enter.”

 

They exchange a final glance before the door opens, and Grantaire knows in that moment that no matter what may come, they’ll face it together, as they’ve been doing from the start.

 

But it’s not campus security spilling into their dorm room. It’s Joly, Bossuet, Feiully, and Eponine, Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Bahorel, Jehan, and even Marius, all proudly wearing the red ties around their biceps.

 

“Les Amis stick together till the end.” Jehan declares while Courfeyrac and Marius exchange fistbumps behind his back.

 

“We’ve got roughly three minutes until they get here. I didn’t have time to do much, but I sent out a worm in an email pretending to be a benefactor.” Eponine states, fingers moving over the keypad of her smart phone. “It’s like you said, Enj. I’m not going down without a fight.”

 

“None of us are.” Marius adds, clapping a hand on Eponine’s shoulder. Her fingers tighten around the TARDIS case of her phone, and she reluctantly puts it back in her pocket.

 

“So I’ve been thinking about what to do after all this.” Courfreyac’s voice is slow, as though he’s still thinking through whatever he’s about to say. “There’s a pizza restaurant opening down the road from here. We could all get jobs, pitch in to rent a house together.”

 

“How are we going to price houses with no internet access?” Enjolras asks, hand still firmly grasping Grantaire’s.

 

“We could go the old-fashioned route. Pick up one of those housing magazines and you know. Actually look.” Grantaire gives him a smug grin.

 

“And suddenly the cynic is planning for a future. What gods have blessed this day?” Jehan raises an eyebrow, to which Grantaire rolls his eyes.

 

“I have been here, by your sides, the entire time. What reason have you to doubt me?”

 

“You’ve never believed in our cause before. Why would you choose to go down with us?” Combeferre’s eyes narrow slightly, as though he is attempting to see Grantaire’s motives through his very skin.

 

“We can trust him.” Enjolras’ statement cuts off anything Combeferre would say by way of protest. When the other male still seems unconvinced, Grantaire pulls up his school email on his phone, showing Combeferre the three warnings in his inbox.

 

“R, at your service. They’ve got grounds to kick me out, too. Happy?”

 

Combeferre’s eyes widen in surprise, and he gives Grantaire a brief nod in acknowledgement. “I never would have guessed our resident drunk could be so good with words.”

 

“Resident sober now, thank you very much.” Grantaire nudges Enjolras briefly. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

 

“I would say ‘no problem’, but it really wasn’t, was it?” He laughs, and the rest of Les Amis chuckle with him.

 

Grantaire glances around, can see these people he’s reluctantly come to know as friends over the past three years move closer together, as though huddling will somehow make the sentence less harsh, but he also sees the resolve in their eyes, as though their blog tag of “Vive Le Resistance” has been tattooed into their very souls.

 

And when a loud banging comes at the door, each of them stands proudly, a defiant grin on their faces as the campus police move to cuff all of them. There are dozens of officers moving through the room, and Grantaire remains calm until his hand is wrenched away from Enjolras’. It’s at that point that he struggles, pushing against the man restraining him in an attempt to get back to Enjolras’ side, where he belonged.

 

"Grantaire, stop. Don't give them any reason to make this worse for you." Grantaire looks over to Enjolras, whose face is somber and yet whose eyes belie an affection he had never dreamed of seeing. "I'll see you on the other side of this whole mess."

 

And weirdly enough, he does.

*          *          *

Six hours, and a firm lecture from Dean Madeleine as well as the head of campus security later, they've all been handed paperwork for their expulsion and are meeting at a diner a few streets away from campus. Several bags are on the floor under the table, with several more boxes containing the rest of their possessions having been loaded up into people's cars after campus security oversaw the packing and moving out of their dorm rooms.

 

Enjolras, being the leader of this whole mess arrives at the diner last and is met with a chorus of cheers as he holds his expulsion papers in the air like a flag. Grantaire's eyes sparkle as Enjolras gives him a smile that causes something low in his stomach to curl.

 

"Expelled and forbidden from coming within a mile of campus." He declares, moving to take the seat next to Grantaire. Eponine is grinning at both of them as the rest of Les Amis raise their expulsion papers in a mock toast, save for Marius, who refuses to meet anyone's gaze.

 

"Oh, come now, Pontmercy." She nudges him briefly. "It's only because of your beloved's pleas that we all got off so easy. You've every right to celebrate with the rest of us, even if you're the only one not banned from campus."

 

He gives her a slight smile, and Grantaire raises his mug in a half-toast. "To Marius, whose ridiculous crush on the Dean's daughter has finally paid off!"

 

Enjolras nudges him at that and gives him a sharp glare. "Without whom we could have easily gone to jail on counts of hacking as well as borderline cyber-terrorism. To Marius." He raises the coffee Grantaire had passed him earlier, and the other members of Les Mis do the same, letting out a 'hear, hear'.

 

"So what's the plan from here, Enjolras?" Joly asks quietly.

 

"We fall back. Those of you who have homes to return to, do so." Enjolras sighs.

 

There is a strong wave of disappointment through the group at that. For many of them, 'home' is hundreds of miles away, and they had only managed to attend school on scholarships in the first place.

 

"And those of us who don't?" Grantaire asks quietly, looking over at Enjolras.

 

"We'll figure something out." He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "But for now, it's been a long day. I vote pancakes and bacon before we even think of our next move. We've all lived to fight another day." He gives them all a wry smile. "And our fight is far from over. Our story will live on in the hearts and minds of the students for years to come. Already we've become legends. Never forget that."

 

And when Enjolras' hand finds Grantaire's under the table, squeezing tightly, the latter can't help but feel as though this was where they were supposed to end up: a band of misfits with no place to call home and nothing to do but live and love. And when Enjolras' affectionate gaze meets his own, he decides that such a fate isn't so horrible after all.


	14. Between the Raindrops

  
_Walking between the raindrops_  
 _Riding the aftershock beside you_  
 _Off into the sunset_  
 _Living like there's nothing left to lose_

_-"Between the Raindrops", Lifehouse_

* * *

In the end, it is only Eponine who chooses to return home to live with her parents and younger brother after promising to visit frequently. The other members of Les Amis manage to find a run-down house--mansion, really--that is being leased out for cheap. None of them are terribly fond of going into debt so early in their lives of independence, so they all pledge to find jobs as soon as possible. But for now, within twenty four hours of their collective expulsion, they move into the house and sleep on battered couches and old mattresses they'd found at a local thrift store. Almost a week after that fateful day, they're all still living out of boxes and bags, but they're happy.

 

Grantaire and Enjolras, having opted to continue sharing a room, are lying on a mattress on the floor and a couch, respectively. There's been a strange silence between them for days, somewhere between comfortable and awkward, and so far, neither of them have had the courage to breach it. Finally, it is Enjolras' voice that cuts into the quiet dark of the room.

 

"You once told me you weren't a revolutionary; that you didn't even believe in our cause."

 

"Yes, and?" Grantaire rolls over to face him, somehow managing to catch his gaze even in the darkness.

 

"Do you regret it?" Enjoloras asks, hesistation in his voice before he continues. "Any of it? I mean, you had finally managed to pick your grades up and you had such a promising future as an artist--"

 

"And Joly as a doctor and Eponine as a writer, and Jehan as a poet, and you as a revolutionary politician slash activist... and yet here we all are." he cuts him off. "Life isn't about 'could have beens', Apollo. Even a cynic like me knows that. No, life is about remembering times past and enjoying the right nows. There is honestly no place I would rather be right now than here."

 

"On that old mattress?" Enjolras teases.

 

"This mattress is very comfortable, thank you very much. Way better than your couch at least."

 

"Your judgement is clouded by the years of alcohol abuse." Grantaire can hear the springs of the couch shift as Enjolras rises and crosses the room, laying down next to Grantaire with the most graceful flop he's ever seen. "I suppose it isn't as bad as it looks."

 

"Of course it's not. Do you really think a hedonist such as myself would have tolerated uncomfortable sleeping conditions for more than a night?" Grantaire's voice is low and quiet as Enjolras turns to lay on his side and face him.

 

"No, I suppose not." Enjolras reaches out for him in the dark, running a hand through the messy curls, then dropping it to take Grantaire's hand and twine their fingers together.

 

"What will you do now? Your fight is over, your plans are all irrelevant. I don't think any college will take us now."

 

"My fight is never over, 'Taire. There will always be causes to fight for. I intend to keep fighting for this one, somehow. Maybe I'll look into applying at a community college, starting from scratch. But for now... I suppose I'll simply live."

 

"Simply live? Enj, I don't think you can 'simply' do anything. You'll live passionately, or carefully but never 'simply'." Grantaire retorts, squeezing his hand briefly.

 

"And you? What will you do?"

 

"Same thing I've always been doing, I guess. I'll keep living like I could die at any second, try to find more of the beautiful things in life, and continue gazing up into the sky to watch Apollo guide the sun."

 

"Over." Enjolras corrects.

 

"...huh?"

 

"You'll be looking over, not up. Your Apollo is by your side. You've no reason to stay on the ground like the wretched toad you once claimed to be. You've got wings of your own now, you ought to use them."

 

Grantaire is speechless for a moment. "Did you just use my own metaphor against me?"

 

"I did." Enjolras grins and then his hands are in Grantaire's hair again, tugging him down for a kiss.

 

Grantaire has no idea how it got to this point; how the pretentious freshman and the drunk cynic from three years ago had managed to bridge the gap between them and create something as beautiful as this. But as he presses Enjolras down into the mattress and takes his lips in a possessive kiss, Grantaire can't help but be glad he finally found something to believe in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading! I still can't believe that this monster of a fic was born from a random comment made by a friend when we were pulling an all-nighter together. I remember getting halfway through it and sending her an angry text saying "THIS WAS LITERALLY SUPPOSED TO BE A DRABBLE!!". 
> 
> So again, thanks to me-again5 for coming up with this idea and brainstorming with me, thanks to my darling Victoria for reviewing every update, and thanks to everyone who read, commented, and left kudos! You guys are awesome :)


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